


the lindy bar hop

by kidcomrade



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcomrade/pseuds/kidcomrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Men, women, and courtship have changed over the years. Starks, on the other hand, have not. Silly gen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lindy bar hop

"I've never been much for romance," Tony says, flicking a speck of dust off the shoulder of his expensive new blazer. "Roses, chocolates? Eh. Too Hallmark greeting card. I like to get right to business." He has the nerve to raise an eyebrow. "If a boy scout like you grasps my meaning."

Steve wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Where I come from, I was taught to treat women  _right_."

"Where you come from also happens to be several decades ago. Did they even show  _ankle_   back then?" He glances down at the  minuscule  bit of exposed flesh between sock and pant leg-- "Am I  _indecent_   for you right now?"  

He really, really wants to snap back in defense of old fashioned values; after all, it's not like he's a Puritan or anything, even if he is a  _lot_   more traditional than the man wriggling his eyebrows across the table. Rouged women in backless dresses at galas and functions are a completely foreign concept to Steve Rogers, ex-wallflower, and so are the nights Tony Stark apparently once spent with them, faceless woman after faceless woman, foreign skin on dark nights.  

As he opens his mouth to retort, though, Tony growls in a mock-seductive tone, then tugs at the knee of his trousers, baring and unbaring his ankle in the most ridiculous "peep show" ever. He cannot help the smile that plays on his lips or the chuckle that rises out of his throat.

"Don't worry, gramps. I'm converted--a taken man, you know. It's a tragic thing, really, but I can at least help  _you_   here."

"I don't think Miss Potts would enjoy being called 'tragic'."

"Which is why  _you don't tell her I said that_   and  let me take you out and be your wingman!"

"My what?"

"Exactly. ...Actually, you probably shouldn't tell her about anything else that I say or do tonight, either. Now, come on--bar. I'm driving."


End file.
